


Unspoken

by OverlordWaffles



Series: Unspoken [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dominant/Top Benny, Dominant/Top Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Protective Benny, Protective Castiel, Purgatory, Season/Series 08, Submissive/Bottom Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlordWaffles/pseuds/OverlordWaffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an unspoken understanding between Castiel and Benny, in Purgatory, that they have to keep Dean alive, and not just because he's risking his life to get them home. It's an unspoken understanding that Dean begins to crumble when one of them makes it out, and the other stays behind. It's an unspoken respect that stops Benny from keeping Dean to himself. It's an unspoken need, when they're reunited, to show Dean that he is loved and cherished, and worth everything he thinks he'd not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Unspoken Truce

When Cas first saw Benny with Dean in Purgatory, he knew something wasn’t quite right. Sure, they explained the portal, hitching a ride, and getting home, but there was something under the surface that he couldn’t quite put his finger on about why Benny was the way he was with Dean. 

Their days were long, tedious, and even without the need to eat or sleep Benny and Cas got exhausted. Now that Cas and Dean were together, it was a never ending stream of monsters coming after them. Cas knew his presence drew in the Leviathan, but he’d never had much of a problem when he was alone taking care of the other monsters that roamed the damp, dank forest world. Dean was like a shining beacon, though, of pure, living flesh that pumped blood through his body like a ringing bell. His heart rate was nearly always elevated, with the running, the fighting, the stress of surviving. Cas could hear it, could feel the humanity pouring out of Dean. He’d always loved being able to feel something so alive, loved watching humanity. Now that they were here, though, cut off from anyone else, cut off every other human, he could feel the very core of Dean with every movement he made. 

He caught himself, sometimes, just staring at Dean. He did that anyways, just as habit, but there were times during their rare moments of peace that he couldn’t tear his eyes off of Dean’s form panting, settling, trying to survive. He ached with the knowledge he could do little to help the man. Being here, in Purgatory, he was cut off from a lot of his Heavenly powers. He could ease Dean’s aches, sometimes, with a gentle brush of his hand to his forehead while he slept. Other times, he couldn’t even heal his own wounds. It was like finding wifi in a concrete basement. That’s how he thought Sam would describe it. He’d get a wave of power crashing over him in some locations, and then nothing in others. It had disoriented him at first, but he was used to it now. The way it fluxed within him helped remind him of his sins, his need for atonement. It helped remind him what he was at his own core.

He found himself wanting to guard Dean, from every pain and ache, from every monster and creature in this god forsaken place. Now that he was with Dean, instead of on his own, he had to work harder at that. He had to fight harder, focus more. The nights were the hardest, even though it seemed the monster world worked much like the living world. There was always a short span of four or five hours when it got so dark that nothing moved, nothing attacked. That’s when Benny and Cas would make Dean sleep.

Dean still prayed. 

That was what was the hardest thing about the night, truthfully. In his sleep, Dean’s mind was left  
unguarded, open, uninhibited. His dreams screamed loudly through him, and Cas felt drained from it. The first time he’d realize the call of his name in his ear wasn’t real, he’d physically had to walk away from the sleeping man. He’d paced the whole night, around the small circle of their makeshift camp. 

Dean lay on his side on the cold ground, with his arms tight against his chest, his blade by his face, and a closed off expression on his tight featured face. He didn’t move. Cas was chilled by how lifeless he seemed. Benny sat at a tree a few feet from Dean, facing Dean’s back to watch over it. Cas had circled them all night, dragging on Benny’s nerves without meaning to. He had circled, and stared, and tried to make sense of what he was picking up from Dean’s unconscious mind. 

Most nights it was just his name, or the thought of him, in that tone that made Cas feel so achingly useless. It was his name called in pain, in need, in fear. Some nights, when the day had been nonstop, when they barely made any progress, Cas could almost hear Dean’s dreams as actual words, as vivid images.

Cas, watch out for Sammy. Please, take care of my baby brother. I can’t let anything happen to him.

Cas, Cas…please, come back. Come on buddy. 

Cas, I’m not mad, please just come back. Can’t do this without you.

Cas, cas, don’t go. No, don’t go. Not again, don’t go. Please don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go, man. Please.

The nights when Dean’s dreams turned into pleads where the hardest. He would stop his habitual pacing, he would come over and sit in front of the hunter and set his hand on the blood splattered cheeks and ginger scruff. He would sit like that until the first hint of light, or noise, reached his ears and he would pull back, stand up, and go off to find Dean something to eat. 

That was one of the other things Cas hated about those fluxes in his power. There could be days when he couldn’t feel Heaven’s touch, and he worried what would happen to Dean. He wouldn’t be able to heal his wounds, or ease his mind, or feed his body. Purgatory wasn’t made for humans, and so the food that they did find was barely edible, sometimes poisonous, and barely enough to sustain Dean’s human needs. 

That was one of the things Benny and Cas did bond over, the need to keep Dean alive, to find him food, shelter, water. They would trade off in the mornings, usually, even if Cas had his powers. They would try to collect what they could where they were, and save it for when Dean needed it. Dean never brought up what they did for him, but they both saw it in his eyes that he understood what they were doing for him. It was like an unspoken acknowledgement that their payment for getting out of Purgatory with Dean was helping him in those ways. They didn’t need thanks. When Dean had realized Cas had taken to helping him out, in those first days when all three of them were together, they’d all felt the way Dean fought harder. They saw the determination in his eyes light up brighter, his shoulders square more as he straightened his back and pushed them forward towards home.

Cas didn’t know how to tell Dean that he wasn’t helping him for the ride out. He was helping Dean because it was the least he could do. He was helping because Dean didn’t belong here, because Dean had a family to get back too, no matter how small it had become. Dean needed hope, and help, even if he didn’t say it. Cas knew. And when Cas realized that Dean could have already left, should have already left, with Benny, his heart broke. Dean had stayed behind to find him. 

He’d heard rumors of the beast hunting him with the name angel on his tongue, but when he realized the monsters in Purgatory meant Dean he trembled to realize Dean wouldn’t leave without him. He knew his need for penance, his need for punishment and atonement wouldn’t sit well with Dean. He knew Dean wouldn’t care if Cas wanted, needed, to stay. He would try to drag Cas back with him. He kept Dean alive to repay him the faith he had, to repay the pain he had caused by keeping Dean here. 

Nearly a year had passed, and Benny had found Dean after two and a half months. They’d found Cas three after that. 

In the time they ran and hunt together, trying to survive, Cas began to understand Benny. They didn’t talk much, but he garnered a lot of understanding from his interactions with Dean. Benny’s word could be trusted. He promised to watch out for Dean as long as the human got him home. But as time slipped on, Cas realized the two became friends. He saw how Dean struggled with the concept for a while. It was a hard won gift to be acknowledged as Dean’s friend. As Dean had said on more than one occasion, he had no friends. All his friends were dead. Maybe that’s what made it easier for Dean to let them in. 

Cas and Benny couldn’t die. Not in Purgatory, and not easily on Earth. Cas was an Angel. Benny was a Vampire. Very little could kill them, even in Purgatory, and Dean never gave a monster the chance to try. He was ruthless, relentless. Now that he didn’t have to question them about where Cas was, he could kill without hesitance. Even Castiel was impressed. He found himself one afternoon sprawled in a prickly bush watching as Dean slaughtered three vampires in one swing, twisting around with cat like grace and stabbing a fourth that was grappling with Benny. His makeshift bone blade barely missed slicing Benny’s side open as it passed under his arm and caught the unwelcome guest right in the ribs. Before Benny could even let go, Dean was dragging the blade down, ripping open undead flesh and utterly drenching them in blood and guts. Benny let go after that, taking a step to the side as Dean pulled his blade out with a vivid squelching sound and swung it up to take the vampires head off its neck. 

Dean, standing in the middle of that clearing, with blood and guts coating his front and sides looked glorious. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, his green eyes the brightest things Cas could remember seeing in that dull, grey world. He was a warrior fit to protect Heaven. Cas saw then, with true understanding and clarity, why this righteous man had been chosen as Michael’s true vessel.

He could be unstoppable. If he was less of a man, Dean could be a king. He could make all of them bow down and beg to live. If Dean wanted power, he could have it. It humbled Cas so much, he almost changed his mind about staying behind. 

As the days got closer to the end of the journey, Cas came to understand Benny’s hidden motives. The monster in him had been changed because of Dean. Benny had fallen in love with Dean. Cas understood then why it became easier for him to put up with Benny’s presence. Sure Benny was a vampire, created and formed and hard wired to kill humans, but he hadn’t once attacked Dean besides that first initial meeting they’d had before Cas was found. Cas saw the blood lust, the crazed need in the other vampires that came after them. He saw the unstoppable, careless absolutely famished creatures that sought Dean out. But Benny, Benny resisted all of the urges, all of the need. Cas could tell when Benny really ached, when it got hard for him to be around Dean and not just slide over those few feet at night and sink into his neck. Those were the rare nights when Benny would get up, walk past Cas and pat him on the shoulder as he took to pacing in Cas’ place. Cas would nod, walk over to the sleeping man, sit behind him and brush his fingers through Dean’s hair. He would breath life back into the soldier beneath his fingers and stretch his grace, no matter how thin, and heal his wounds, clean his form, and leave him laying there as clean and new as if he’d never stepped into this war zone at all. 

Benny would keep pacing, his shoulders more relaxed, but still tense, and watching the woods more intently. Cas would stay there past the sun rise, on those mornings, easing Dean to stay asleep until Benny would catch the first smell or noise of another animal and turn, nodding to Cas. Dean would make up, stand up, look down at himself and say nothing. He always pushed harder on those days, making them run as far as they could.

They didn’t need many words in Purgatory. The words they did share were soft, light hearted, and mostly for Dean’s benefit. Cas didn’t think Dean understood that part, despite his understanding of all the other unspoken things they shared. Dean was human, after all, and an unselfish one at that. Dean needed them to keep him sane, needed them to distract him when there was peace during the days, when they weren’t running, when they weren’t sleeping. Dean selfishly clung to those little things, and denied the fact that he was allowed and deserved so much more than that. 

It was watching Dean form not just a friendship, but a brotherhood, with Benny, that Cas finally understood why he was so jealous. He loved Dean, too. That’s why they could put aside their differences and form this truce between Angel and Monster. They both had a common mission, a common objective. They both understood that Dean needed and wanted them both. He wouldn't have let them do what they did, wouldn't have let them in, if he didn't care. And they understood that choosing between them would break him.


	2. Chapter 2

When Benny first met Dean, it was after hearing all the rumors, all the things whispered in the dark about him. He hadn't been sure who or what to believe, so he'd decided to meet him for himself. When he saw those bright green eyes lighting up the grayness of the world, he'd known the rumors were true. A human in purgatory. 

He had to give Dean props, in those first few days, he never left his back exposed, never let Benny out of his site. He would hack and slash his way through monsters demanding on every breath to know where the angel was. Another rumor he'd found out to be true. 

By the time they found Castiel, Dean had formed a sort of tentative bond with the vampire that was bordering on friendship and trust. It was a slow build, and it mostly thanks to the fact that Benny wasn't trying to rip his throat out. The other vampires were needy, desperate, foaming out the mouth with the desire to taste even a single drop of the human's blood. 

Benny resisted. It was hard, so hard, not to give in to those moments at night when Dean was asleep, a tense line of muscle and bone. He fantasized about just slipping closer, pinning those broad shoulders to the ground and digging into that dirt covered neck. 

Watching Dean move helped distract Benny, though. The nights were always so hard to deal with the urges when he knew Dean was defenseless, so blindingly human in his physical needs. Benny would watch Dean as they traveled, watch the muscles under torn and tattered jeans moving the bow legged man forward with a determined swing to his step. He never stopped, never paused in his search. Even hunting for food to sustain himself was a seamless swirl of movement as Dean caught an animal and slit it's throat. Benny took to hunting for food for Dean after about two weeks of traveling with him. It distracted him, and he got to drink from whatever he found. He was awestruck that Dean had survived nearly three months on his own in this place, hunting nonstop, slicing, hacking and killing and torturing the helpless souls he came across just to find even a hint of where the Angel was. 

It took Benny a while to realize he wasn't just craving blood at night, anymore. He wanted more of Dean than that. Their friendship grew stronger every time they killed a monster, every step closer to the Angel they got. Benny hated it, hated hearing Dean talk about that Angel, talk about everything they'd been through. He preferred hearing Dean go on for hours about his baby bro, Sammy. He knew Dean really started opening up to him when the stories got more meaningful, got more important. He could hear the ache in Dean's voice when he thought Benny wouldn't notice, he could see the way he longed to get home, the way he put all this guilt on his own shoulders for leaving Sammy behind up there, for not being there for him, for messing up and making all the mistakes he had. He blamed himself for everything, and never once did Benny hear about Sam's fault, Sam's sins. Dean made him seem like a hero, the perfect brother. 

When he first saw Castiel, he'd felt dark tendrils of jealousy flare up in his gut, making him surly and irritable around the other man. Dean already had picked up Benny's dislike for the Angel, but figure the green eyed hunter thought it was because he was holding up their escape from this war zone. 

Dean could have been free of Purgatory in mere months, but instead he'd ran after an angel who didn't want him to find him, and sent them deeper into the depths of the gray place. He could have been free, but he sacrificed a year trying to save the Angel and bring him home.

That's how Benny figured it out, as if it hadn't been obvious enough on it's own with the way the hunter strayed too close to Cas as they walked, the way they stared at each other, the way they interacted. Dean loved Cas, and he could see the same affection radiating off of the Angel. It made his undead heart twist in anger, frustration. Watching Cas pace at night drew on his nerves, until one night he heard the faint whimper on Dean's breath, the whisper of the Angel's name, and realized the man was calling out to the Angel in his sleep.

He'd figured it out pretty early on, that before Dean would let sleep claim him he would just turn his eyes to the dark heavens and pray. Not out loud, no, he wouldn't show Benny that weakness, but he could see it in the set of the hunter's features, the way his eyes clouded and looked far away, the way his lips would form one soundless word: Cas. 

And of course, his assumptions were proven correct when Dean confronted the Angel for running away, declaring openly that he prayed every night to the Angel. It was as close to a love confession as he figured Dean could get when his heart was aching that much.

As the days passed, the three of them hunting together, it became easier for Benny to admit he wanted Dean, he craved Dean, he loved Dean. What did he have to fear about loving another man, anyways? He was already in Purgatory, he was already dead, he was condemned to this world again if he ever died. Sure he'd never been attracted to men before, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen. Dean was so pure, so much of a man that it made Benny feel unworthy to be near him. He remembered the whispers, the rumors. Dean was the Righteous Man. The man who had been to Hell and been saved by an Angel. Dean was the man who had stopped the apocalypse. Dean was the man that sent the Leviathan back to Purgatory and came flying into the mud with them. 

Dean. His name was like a prayer of it's own. When Benny caught himself watching Dean too closely, caught that other name on the man's lips, he would whisper the hunter's name to himself like his own prayer to an Angel. Dean. 

And then, when he was wreathing beneath the man's skin, boiling in his blood, he wanted to scream. He wanted to crawl his way up through the man's veins, into his heart and bite into the thundering muscle. He wanted to claim Dean, keep him forever, bury himself into the blinding soul around him. 

Waking up in the real world, after so long, and seeing Dean kneeling their in the dirt, his heart ached to realize Dean cared about him , too. Dean was not the kind of man that would let just any one crawl their way back to Earth. He could have dumped his wreathing soul into any corpse and walked away, and there would be one less vampire in the world. 

Seeing Dean alone, eyes haunted, he realized that no matter how much he wanted to pin the man down right there and ravage him in his own grave, he couldn't. There had been something about Purgatory that went unspoken, and after spending six months with an Angel and a Hunter, he knew. He knew he couldn't claim this man, he knew he couldn't keep him close. That had never been an option. And realizing that haunted look in Dean's eyes came from a blue eyed angel left behind, Benny knew he couldn't take Dean for his own without giving Cas have a chance.

They'd shared a lot in their silence, in their mutual protection of Dean at night. They'd both loved the hunter in silence, both understood the other's love for their green eyed god. But Benny wouldn't betray that bond of unspoken respect. Benny couldn't steal this crumbling man for himself. He would just have to be there, if ever the man called on him. 

Dean Winchester. 

Never a sweet and more bitter name had he breathed before. Walking away from the sweet smelling blood and the righteous man was the hardest thing Benny had to do, but it wasn't his place to stay, even without the competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This hasn't been betad or proof read, but I will edit it for mistakes when I get a chance to read through it. Hope you enjoy. Should have one more installment to go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't too short. I just let it flow and copy pasted without checking word count or page length like always. Hope you enjoy the final installment.

In some ways Dean had always been more of the type of guy that spoke to cover things up, spoke for the sake of noise, to put on a facade. He forgot sometimes that the things he left unspoken could be seen by others, understood and analyzed and misconceived. He forgot that those closest to him could see through all the layers of bullshit. 

In many ways, Dean was a man of many words and many unspoken words. No chick flick moments, right? 

He wore his heart on his sleeve, sometimes, without realizing it. His eyes were always letting go of information he'd rather keep locked away, secrets kept even from himself. His eyes would follow the sway of hips, the sharp lines of uniforms, the curve of stubbled jaws, and he wouldn't be able to put into words for himself why he let himself indulge a little in the male form. He pushed it aside in his own mind, locked it away when it started to become more and more frequent. He recoiled from the thought, from the unspoken truth of what he was, and hide it away so it wasn't an issue. 

When he'd gone to Hell he'd told Sam a little about what happened, but mostly he left the words unsaid. He would hear the echoes of his screams, of his torture's laughs and instructions, of innocent souls begging. He would hear the taunts, the jabs, the sharp sound of metal on bone. He didn't want to tell Sammy about the torture, that in the end was so very different from Lucifer's cage. He didn't want to describe the smell of rotten flesh knitting it self up, the taste of blood in the air it was saturated so deeply. He didn't want to talk about the way he'd been dug in to physically and mentally, and ripped apart in more ways than he could have imagined. He didn't talk about the violations, the tricks, the way Alistair would carve his eyes from his skull. There was no reason to talk of it, because words couldn't take it away, couldn't make it better, couldn't change anything.

Purgatory didn't change things, yet at the same time it did. When he was free, he told Sam the basic facts of it, told Sam what he needed to hear. He didn't tell him the details of the war zone, of the heart ache. He didn't tell Sam about Benny, didn't tell him about the day to day struggle to survive in a world meant to spit him out. For three months he was silent, voice unused unless he was demanding to know where the angel was. That's how it went. He locked away his voice like he once had as a child, then traumatized by the lose of his first every angel. He found no use for it in the greyness of the void around him, and only used it for one purpose. Castiel. Even then, he kept this prayers silent, unspoken, as he searched for his friend demanding on every rare spoken breath to know where he was. That is, until Benny. 

With Benny it had been hard, to get used to talking again, to being in someone's company again. It had unsettled him, working alongside a vampire, a monster, the very thing he fought on the surface. It went forever unmentioned that Dean understood the urges, the blood hunger. It went hidden that Dean had once been the very monster he quickly became friends with. Maybe that was the reason, after all. Even with Benny, though, there was something unspoken lingering in the air. They searched, they hunted, and they found Castiel. 

And then Dean figured it out. 

It was hard not to notice the unspoken tension between the two supernatural creatures. It was hard not to comment on the dry looks, the glares, the silent hisses when one or the other did something upsetting to the other. Jealousy. They were fighting over the right to him. HIM. In those few hours of darkness when he was able to sleep he would dream fitfully, his mind trying to break down walls, dredging up memories of another dark dimension. Even his prayers and pleas and silent desperation seemed to leak into the air as he lay still as a corpse, body humming with the life force that called evil to him with every moment. 

He would catch them, sometimes, in the early mornings, or before he fell completely asleep. Sitting or pacing, watching in silence. He would spy on their expressions, their moments of unguarded looks. The silent truce they made on his behalf, in exchange for his dedication in getting them all home, was bitter sweet. He fought, he swore, he collapsed in exhaustion as his feet hit earth once again, red pain boiling under the skin of his arm. 

Leaving Purgatory had been unbearable. The pureness, the understanding he had found there, the man that got left behind. When he returned Benny to his body, it went unspoken that he had failed, that someone hadn't made it out. Benny, to his credit, didn't ask, didn't break any promises, didn't attack him then and there. But Dean could see it in the man's eyes, the desire, the longing, but the silent acceptance that it wasn't his place. There had been an promise in that silent truce. 

Dean thinks he loved him the most at that moment. 

Dean understood, though, that there were unspoken limitations, unspoken rules here for him. Benny understood it later, too, when he sacrificed himself again, for Sam. Benny would never be able to coexist in the Winchester's world, in the human world, and Dean could never fully give himself to a monster, to something he hunted. It was also understood nothing came before Sam, and Sam didn't like Benny. Didn't trust him, didn't have any understanding of him. 

Benny only hoped, as the let the blue light close behind Dean's brother, that it was worth it. The surrender. He had seen the small glimmer of love, of agony, of desire in Dean's eyes before they'd said goodbye. He'd never wanted to let got of the burn of Dean's soul when he'd been housed within him, he'd never wanted to leave Dean's side when they got back to Earth. He'd never wanted to let go of Dean at all, so seeing tears and helpless understanding wash through Dean's eyes was almost too much. He hadn't wanted to let go of their embrace. Dean's eyes had always been the brightest things, the most beautiful color Benny had ever seen. At first he had thought it was just because of their vibrancy in the grey tonelessness of Purgatory, but even here they shone, bright like his very soul. Everything about Dean Winchester shone. But his eyes held the unspoken truth of things. Dean wanted it, wanted him, in some small way at the least. He didn't want Benny to leave, but he would always choose family first. 

And Cas was family. 

When Castiel finally returned to him, Dean had so many things he'd wanted to say. Anger, and frustration, and fears brimmed under his skin in silence. When Cas showed him the truth, he wanted to scream and punch and wail. He sucked it all down, swallowed it inside himself, and let the bubble of pain grow bigger. It had always been understood, in some regards, that Dean Winchester thought himself worthless. A failure. Not worthy of love. It was a hard pill to swallow to see that his friend, his family, his brother had pushed him away, had abandoned him to do penance for something that Dean had forgiven him for already. It was a bitter ache in his soul when he realized he could do nothing about it.

It was torture to watch Castiel be turned against him, corrupted, and controlled. Every blow of Castiel's fist across his face in the tomb was like a ram going through his walls, through his heart. The thing that hurt the most, watching the expressionless face wasn't the realization he might be killed by those hands he yearned to reach for and hold on to, but rather that he never got to tell Castiel the truth. When Castiel stopped, stilled, healed him...Dean barely realized he'd said anything at all. 

I need you. 

When a very human Castiel, months and months later, cornered him in the bunker after a hunt that went so very badly that Dean had stitched up his thighs and back, and two broken fingers, it went unspoken that Castiel was desperate, angry, upset. After the months of constant movement, struggles, pain, and after finally hurtling through the aftermath of the trials and Metatron's betrayal, it was like having his wings ripped apart every time Dean got hurt. He couldn't stand seeing Dean weak, bleeding, and bruised. His heart took every punch. Seeing Sam easing a slightly woozy (from pain medicine) Dean down the stairs from the car, and to one of the arm chairs had been the final string, the final blow. Barely moments after Sam had pulled back to let Dean settle, Castiel was marching up to the older Winchester, grabbing him roughly by his shirt, and kissing him hard on the lips right then and there right in front of Sam. 

"Dean Winchester." He had growled, tangling one hand into Dean's short hairs, tilting his head back forcefully so dazed green eyes could stare up at him. "Stop damaging yourself." He instructed with a forceful press of lips. "My heart can't handle it." Some things could go unspoken, could live in the shadows and stay a foggy mystery. But some things needed to be said, where actions could only do so much. "I can't heal you anymore, and I only have one life to spend with you. So please, please, be more careful, you utter dumb ass." He breathed into Dean's mouth in an angry huff. 

The gentle smile, the dazzling green sparkle in Dean's eyes, and the gentle press of wounded hands to the side of Castiel's face were the silent final acceptance of something Dean had left unspoken for so long, something he'd at times feared and been disgusted at even. But now, he couldn't stop loving a man, this man. The angel. His angel. 

"Yeah, yeah..." He chuckled, leaning in slightly. "I love you, too." He kissed into chapped, trembling lips.


	4. Series Continuation

Hey all! 

Just wanted to let you know to look out for my add-on to this story. I've made it part of a series and added a chapter with Dean and Cas' first time together. Hope you enjoy!  
Here's the link. http://archiveofourown.org/works/1202353

\- Overlord Waffles


End file.
